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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086972">(Everyone Has) That Drawer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProofOfConcept/pseuds/ProofOfConcept'>ProofOfConcept</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying'>wilddragonflying</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Collaborations [81]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magicians (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Eliot Waugh, Bottom Quentin Coldwater, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:40:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086972</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProofOfConcept/pseuds/ProofOfConcept, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Bambi!" Eliot cries, bursting into Margo's room without so much as knocking. "Emergency!"</i>
</p><p><i>Margo swears and nearly drops her drink onto the bed. "Jesus, El," she complains. "Where's the fucking fire?"</i> </p><p> <i>"In Q's room," Eliot says. His eyes are wild. "Also in my pants."</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Collaborations [81]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/41362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(Everyone Has) That Drawer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Bambi!" Eliot cries, bursting into Margo's room without so much as knocking. "Emergency!"</p><p>Margo swears and nearly drops her drink onto the bed. "Jesus, El," she complains. "Where's the fucking fire?"</p><p>"In Q's room," Eliot says. His eyes are wild. "Also in my pants."</p><p>Margo raises an eyebrow. "You're not making much sense, honey. Use your big boy words."</p><p>Eliot makes a frustrated sound and closes the door behind him. "Listen," he says. "Q said I could go up to his room to raid his stash, because I've had a horrible week and Josh isn't getting here until tomorrow. So I was looking where he told me to, but I must have picked the wrong drawer because I-- found." His brain stalls. "Other things. Bambi. <i>Other things.</i>"</p><p>It only takes a heartbeat for it to click; a slow, delighted smirk spreads over Margo's expression. "Did you find his sex toys?"</p><p>It takes a lot to make Eliot blush, but even he knows there's a slight flush to his cheeks when he meets Margo's gaze. "Yes," he says. "Yes I did. And... they are <i>not</i> what I expected."</p><p><i>Now </i>Margo finally looks intrigued. "Oh?"</p><p>"Bambi, I think that boy is seriously into anal."</p><p>Margo's expression grows even more interested, and she shifts on the bed, patting the newly-opened space. "<i>Do </i>tell."</p><p>Eliot sits down. "Dildos," he says, his gaze vacant as he stares across the room. "Many. Vibrating ones, normal ones. Some have suction cups, like he uses them in the <i>shower</i>." He takes a deep, fortifying breath. "But that's not all."</p><p>Margo looks equal parts delighted and fascinated. "What else did you find?"</p><p>"<i>Plugs</i>," Eliot breathes. "Like, enough to rival my nipple clamps collection - <i>pre-</i>Arabic class."</p><p>Margo looks impressed. "Our little supernerd has hidden depths," she muses. Her gaze flicks to Eliot, and she grins. "Are you going to plumb them?"</p><p>Eliot groans, and buries his head in his hands. "God, I <i>want</i> to."</p><p>"So what's stopping you?"</p><p>Eliot looks up to glare at her. "You know what."</p><p>Margo looks unimpressed. "So? Jump him, fuck him, and then make him dinner afterwards. He's not going to say 'no,' honey."</p><p>"You don't know that," Eliot insists.</p><p>"I know he's got the world's worst crush on you," Margo says, raising an eyebrow. "It's so cute I can't even find it pathetic."</p><p>Eliot starts to protest, but then he stops himself, thinking. "You really think he'd go for it?"</p><p>Margo smirks. "Of course he will, baby. <i>Especially </i>if you blow his mind between, under, or on top of the sheets. Or in the shower, against a wall... Wherever you two end up. And you better tell me <i>all</i> about it afterwards."</p>
<hr/><p>"Hey, Q," Eliot says, several hours later, as he raps his knuckles lightly against Quentin's door frame. "Can I come in?"</p><p>Quentin glances up from the Circumstances text he's studying, gives Eliot an easy smile. "Sure. What's up?"</p><p>Eliot comes into the room and closes the door, but chooses to lounge against it rather than sit on the bed like he usually does. He gives Quentin a thoughtful look. "Found your stash earlier," he says. "I was impressed. You take relaxing pretty seriously, huh?"</p><p>Whatever Quentin was expecting Eliot to say, that clearly wasn't it. "Well, I mean, when you've got anxiety, sometimes you need a little extra, um, chemical help when your meds aren't cutting it."</p><p>Eliot smirks. "Is that what we're calling it?"</p><p>Quentin frowns. "I feel like we're having two different conversations," he says slowly. "What are <i>you </i>talking about?"</p><p>"It's almost like you wanted me to find them," Eliot muses, in lieu of an actual answer. "I mean, they are just a drawer away from your <i>actual</i> stash."</p><p>"What do you - " Quentin freezes mid-sentence, his eyes widening as realization dawns. "Oh. <i>Oh, </i>you opened the - um." A flush rapidly stains his cheeks, and he can't look directly at Eliot any longer, gaze dropping to the bedspread. "Uh. I mean, I - No. No, I didn't mean for you to find. Those."</p><p>Eliot finally steps further onto the room. "I learned a lot about you this afternoon," he goes on. "You have quite an extensive collection."</p><p>Quentin seems frozen on the bed, the only things moving are his eyes and his tongue, darting out to wet his lips as he tracks Eliot's progress. "Yeah, I - variety is the, the spice of life, right?"</p><p>"Do you use them all?" Eliot asks, his voice deeper, richer than Quentin has ever heard it. It soon becomes apparent that he still isn't approaching the bed; instead he's heading slowly toward the drawers that hold Quentin's 'collection'. "Which ones are your favourites?"</p><p>"I, um - Yeah," Quentin says, his voice hoarse. "I use most of them. Favorites kind of... depend on my mood?"</p><p>Eliot's hand lands on the handle of That drawer, his fingertips running gently over the ridge. He doesn't take his eyes off Quentin. "What mood are you in tonight?"</p><p>Quentin's breath freezes in his chest, and it takes him a moment to find enough air - enough courage - to speak again. "Um. Back - Back row. Third from the left."</p><p>Eliot raises an eyebrow, but doesn't speak until he's opened the drawer and pulled out the toy in question. It's sleek black silicone, a prostate massager on steroids - and it comes with a remote. Eliot looks up at Quentin, his gaze burning. "This is kinky."</p><p>A sharp, almost hysterical laugh bursts from Quentin. "You saw the rest of that drawer, right? I mean, it's pretty much all kinky."</p><p>Eliot concedes the point with an incline of his head. "Still," he says, and closes his fingers slowly around the remote. "It's a... promising choice."</p><p>The breath Quentin pulls in is shaky, but he doesn't flinch away from Eliot's gaze. "Is it?"</p><p>"It is," Eliot says, "because I'd very much like to use this. On you. While you're fucking me." He smiles. "If you're amenable."</p><p>"<i>Fuck,</i>" Quentin breathes, almost more of a sharp exhale than an actual word as he fumbles the textbook still in his hands closed. "Yes, yeah I - I'm amenable. More than."</p><p>Eliot's smile sharpens. "I think you'd better put that down, don't you?"</p><p>The book practically goes flying, and then Quentin's left sitting on the bed, hands clenching and unclenching as he stares at Eliot, gaze hot. "You're not gonna just stand over there all night, are you?"</p><p>"I was rather enjoying watching you squirm," Eliot admits, but he does move away from the drawers and finally, finally approach the bed. The vibrator and its remote land somewhere next to Quentin's hip, and then Eliot is in his space, one hand sliding into his hair and angling his face up until they're inches apart. Quentin can feel Eliot's breath on his lips. "I want you," Eliot murmurs. "I've wanted you for a long time. After this, I'm going to want you again. Is that okay?"</p><p>"Yes," Quentin says, without hesitation, leaning into Eliot's touch, halving the distance between them - but he doesn't touch Eliot, not yet. </p><p>Eliot smiles. "Good boy," he purrs, and kisses him.</p><p>Quentin <i>moans </i>into the kiss, loud and shameless as he presses closer, tilts his head and lets Eliot guide the kiss. His hands lift, brushing Eliot's collar, but don't settle, drifting down over his chest instead as they finally pull apart for air. Quentin's pupils are blown wide, his chest heaving. "<i>El,</i>" he whines. "Fuck, I - <i>Please,</i> I want to touch you."</p><p>Eliot pets his hand through Quentin's hair, though it does little to soothe him. "How do you want to touch me?" he asks.</p><p>"Any way," Quentin pants. "Every way. I - I want to just. Just fucking crawl into your lap, at the parties, when you're sitting in an armchair like it's your fucking <i>throne,</i> I want to get my hands on you, in your hair, mess it up and kiss you until we're drunk with it."</p><p>Eliot kisses him again at that, hard and filthy. "Maybe you should," he says. "Maybe you should always be all over me. You should know by now that I'll give you whatever you want."</p><p>Quentin huffs, a smile curving his lips as he finally lets his hands come to rest on Eliot, one on his shoulder and the other on his chest. "That's a dangerous thing to tell me," he informs Eliot, pressing in for another kiss. "I might do it."</p><p>"You can do anything you like, sweetheart," Eliot promises, "as long as you ask nicely first."</p><p>Quentin shivers against Eliot, breath hitching at his promise. "<i>Please,</i>" he breathes, shifting closer until there's barely enough room for a sheet of paper between the two of them. "<i>Please </i>let me get your clothes off."</p><p>Eliot's smile is somehow equal parts smug and tender. "Such a good boy," he murmurs. "Go ahead."</p><p>Quentin all but beams, hands shifting until he can work the buttons on Eliot's vest. "Why do you have to wear so many <i>layers?</i>" he mutters, equally fond and exasperated. </p><p>"I have to make you work for it," Eliot chuckles.</p><p>Quentin makes a noise of triumph as he finally gets Eliot's vest off of him, and starts in on his shirt. When it's finally unbuttoned, Quentin lets out a shuddering breath, lets his hands slide under the fabric and curve around Eliot's shoulders as he pushes the shirt off. "Can I kiss you again?"</p><p>Rather than answer, this time, Eliot bows to bring their lips together. He kisses him slowly, thoroughly, and his eyes are dark when he pulls back. "Your turn?"</p><p>It takes a moment for Quentin gather his scattered brain cells, but then he nods, fast and eager. "Yes, please, I - Fuck, I want your hands on me, El."</p><p>Eliot grasps the hem of Quentin's t-shirt and pulls it up over his head in one smooth motion. "All right," he allows, as his hands find the soft skin of Quentin's stomach, "maybe there's something to be said about easy access."</p><p>Quentin smirks, but it falters quickly in favor a shaky, pleased sigh as Eliot touches him. “Pants, too?” he asks - and now, a flush finally touches his cheeks. “I want to see every part of you.”</p><p>"Eager," Eliot says, but he sounds pleased rather than reproachful. He steps back this time, though, and starts to loosen his belt himself.</p><p>Quentin hesitates for a moment, and then he licks his lips, pushing himself off of the bed so that he's standing in front of Eliot. He's only there for a moment, however, before he drops to his knees, reaching out to lay his hands over Eliot's, stilling them as he looks up and meets Eliot's gaze. "Let me?"</p><p>Eliot's expression does something very interesting, and he sucks in a sharp breath. "Yeah," he rasps. "Yes, okay."</p><p>Quentin smiles, giving Eliot's hands a brief squeeze before nudging them out of the way so that he can finish undoing Eliot's belt, letting his knuckles brush the skin of Eliot's stomach and hips as he works. The sound of the leather hissing against fabric as Quentin tugs it through the loops makes them both shudder, and Quentin wastes no time undoing the button and reaching for Eliot's fly. "I've thought about this a lot," he confesses, his voice as rough as the sound of the zipper being undone. "About being on my knees for you." He glances up, looks at Eliot through his lashes as he adds, "Being good for you."</p><p>Eliot sinks his fingers into Quentin's hair, not pushing or even guiding, but just cradling the back of his head. "Then be good for me," he says.</p><p>Quentin sighs, and the tension that neither of them had realized was in his shoulders melts away under Eliot's touch. He pauses for a moment, leaning into Eliot's hands before he lets one hand run down the long line of Eliot's leg, until he can reach for Eliot's moccasins, tugging them off and setting them carefully to the side. Quentin shifts in place, reaching for Eliot's waistband so he can practically peel his pants off. His breath catches in his chest when he finally - <i>finally </i>- sees the bulge in Eliot's pants, and he makes a noise like he can't help himself before he leans in, letting his lips ghost over the flesh-warm fabric. "<i>Fuck,</i> I knew you'd be big," he sighs, almost to himself. </p><p>Eliot gasps above him, and Quentin actually feels him twitch in his briefs. "You like that?" he asks, a little breathless.</p><p>Quentin hums, shifts so he can openly mouth along the hot line of Eliot's cock. "I do," he says, breathy but not breathless. "You saw my collection; you know what I like."</p><p>Eliot laughs at that. "Yeah," he sighs. "I'm going to fuck you so good you'll be fucking ruined for anyone else. But not tonight."</p><p>Quentin pulls back, tucks his fingers into the waistband of Eliot's boxer briefs as he looks up and meets Eliot's gaze. "But you will some other time?"</p><p>Eliot nods down at him. "Promise," he breathes.</p><p>"Good," Quentin hums, and then he tugs Eliot's underwear down, lets Eliot balance himself on his shoulders as he steps out of them. Quentin runs his hands up Eliot's legs, a reverent touch that ends just below his ass as Quentin leans in, glances up to meet Eliot's gaze, and takes Eliot's cock into his mouth. </p><p>"<i>Fuck</i>," Eliot moans, his hands tightening briefly in Quentin's hair as his eyes flutter closed. "Easy, Q."</p><p>Quentin makes a noise in the back of his throat that might be assent, except for how he takes a breath through his nose, tilts his head and then - And then he's got Eliot's <i>entire fucking cock </i>in his mouth, nose pressed into the neatly-groomed hair at the base of it. He swallows around the head, works his tongue along the underside as he slowly pulls back, an absolutely <i>filthy </i>sound accompanying the motion. Once Quentin's replaced his mouth with one hand and has pulled off completely, he smirks up at Eliot. "I told you I thought a lot about this," he says, voice already sounding <i>wrecked. </i>He strokes Eliot's cock almost absently, except for the sharp gleam in his eyes. "Said I wanted to be good for you. So I practiced."</p><p>Eliot wheezes a laugh. "Fuck," he says again. "Have you been deepthroating your fucking dildos?"</p><p>Quentin laughs, grinning. "Sometimes, yeah," he admits. "But I like the real thing better." And with that he ducks his head, leans forward, and wraps his lips around Eliot's cock, and practically throws himself into the task of giving Eliot what might be the best fucking blowjob of his life. </p><p>It doesn't take long until Eliot's thighs are trembling with the effort to remain standing, both hands fisted in Quentin's hair without restraint as he gasps and shakes above him. When it eventually gets too much, it takes even more effort to pull Quentin away, largely because Quentin is reluctant to stop. "Q," he says finally, almost whining. "Wait. I want to come with you inside me."</p><p>"<i>Fuck,</i>" Quentin swears, and he's clearly torn between wanting to get his mouth back on Eliot's cock and wanting <i>that,</i> what with the frustrated noise he makes. He stays on his knees for another moment before getting to his feet with another curse, his stomach brushing Eliot's cock and his grip still tight on Eliot's hips. "Alright, okay," he pants. "Let's - bed?"</p><p>"Yeah," Eliot agrees. He feels lightheaded. "Get your pants off, god."</p><p>Quentin scrambles to obey, and when he's finally as naked as Eliot, he reaches for Eliot once more, backing up to the bed and tugging Eliot with him. "Did you think about this all day?" Quentin asks, curious. "I told you you could raid my stash at like, ten o'clock this morning, and you, um, seemed like you really knew exactly what you wanted to happen."</p><p>"What do you think?" Eliot asks, waiting for Quentin to sit on the bed so that he can climb right into his lap. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head for over a year. This morning just provided a little focus."</p><p>Quentin laughs, his hands coming to settle at Eliot's waist, thumbs resting in the cut of Eliot's hips like that line was made for his touch. "You <i>are </i>focused," he agrees, tilting his head in a silent request for another kiss. "I like it."</p><p>Eliot grants the kiss easily, pressing in against Quentin with his hands on his face and kissing him, chasing the taste of himself on Quentin's tongue. He rocks into it, his cock smearing precome between them, and he can feel Quentin hard against him, too. It sends a little thrill through him. He takes Quentin in hand, strokes his cock almost thoughtfully. "Do you want me to take my time, working you open?" he asks. "Or should I help things along a little?"</p><p>Quentin hisses a breath through his teeth, considering, before he answers. "I probably won't last if you take your time," he confesses. </p><p>Eliot slowly rubs his thumb over the head of Quentin's cock, marvelling at how wet he is already. "All right," he says. "Do you know the spell? You could get me ready, too."</p><p>Quentin's breath hitches, and the muscles in his stomach flex, like if Eliot wasn't sitting on his lap, Quentin would be rutting into his grip. "Yeah," he says, breathless. "Yeah, I know the spell."</p><p>"Great," Eliot sighs. He briefly presses the tip of his thumb against Quentin's slit before he lets go, and brings his thumb up to his own lips. The taste of Quentin distracts him for a moment, and he closes his eyes - but then he's climbing off of Quentin and pressing between his thighs instead. The vibrator is suddenly within reach once more, but Eliot doesn't pick it up yet; he just encourages Quentin to spread his legs until Eliot can see all of him. "You're gorgeous," he murmurs. His fingers find Quentin's hole easily enough, circling his rim. "Is this what you want?"</p><p>Quentin makes a noise like all of his breath's been punched out of him, and he nods, hands flying to Eliot's shoulders and kneading. "Yes," he says, and his cock visibly twitches. "Yes, <i>please.</i>"</p><p>Eliot smiles. His hands move quickly through the familiar tuts, and then he rubs his fingers against him once more, gratified to feel the give of Quentin's body. "Let me," he sighs, and works another spell, this one to slick his own hand, before he presses two fingers into him.</p><p>Quentin keens, his grip tightening on Eliot's shoulders even as his hips roll against Eliot's hand, eagerly taking his fingers. "<i>El,</i>" he sighs, thighs falling further apart. "<i>Fuck,</i> you don't - I fucking <i>dreamed </i>about your hands. I - " His breath hitches and he bites off a moan when Eliot's fingers move " - I love watching you cast and I <i>knew </i>you'd be good at this, it'd feel so good."</p><p>"That's it, Q," Eliot murmurs, pressing his fingers deeper and crooking them just so. "Tell me everything you've thought about."</p><p>Quentin tosses his head back against the pillow, his hands shifting restlessly against Eliot's shoulders as he <i>shouts </i>in pleasure. "The shower," he blurts. "Thought about you - <i>hngh </i>- about you just. Just walking in on me. Joining me." His cock twitches again, more precome leaking from his slit to join the already-filthy-slick mess on his stomach. "Thought about you working me open, pressing me against the wall and fucking me senseless."</p><p>Eliot almost moans at the sight of him, and keeps up the pressure on Quentin's prostate just to see what happens. "You love having something in your ass so much," he marvels. "Did you ever think about fucking me?"</p><p>"A couple of times," Quentin confesses, breathless. "I'm- <i>fuck</i> - I'm pretty, ngh, flexible. Thought about fucking you in your great big bed, maybe for your birthday, spread you out and just make you come over and over and over, every way we can manage."</p><p>"<i>Fuck</i>," Eliot groans, "yeah." And then-- "Do you always get this wet?"</p><p>Quentin's flush deepens. "Yes," he says, but his grip on Eliot's shoulders has loosened, and there's a tension in his thighs that wasn't there a moment ago. "Sorry, I know it's... messy."</p><p>"Are you kidding?" Eliot demands. He fucks his fingers into Quentin again, dragging the pads of them over his sweet spot, just to illustrate his point. As expected, even more precome weeps out of Quentin's slit, and Eliot almost loses his goddamn mind. "It's <i>so hot</i>, Q, I can't-- Fuck, I can't wait to get you inside me."</p><p>Quentin bites his lip. "What about condoms?" he asks. "I've got some in the drawer. Easier clean up sometimes."</p><p>Eliot snaps his mouth shut. "Condoms," he says. "Right. Yes. Obviously. At least for now."</p><p>Quentin's hands leave Eliot's shoulders, but only so he can cover his face with them and <i>moan. </i>"You can't just <i>say that,</i>" he whines. "That not using condoms is an option in the future. Jesus, that - <i>Shit.</i>"</p><p>"Q, look at you," Eliot says, helpless. "Look at the mess you're making. Think of what a mess you'd make <i>in me.</i>"</p><p>"I am going to come if you don't shut the fuck up <i>right the fuck now,</i>" Quentin informs Eliot, sounding almost desperate. </p><p>"Fuck," Eliot says, "all right." He eases his fingers from Quentin's body, and instantly misses the sweet clench of him. <i>Next time</i>. "Okay. Condoms where?"</p><p>Quentin waves one hand towards That drawer. "Front row. The box that fits me is the first on the right."</p><p>Eliot's brain shorts again. "You have condoms that would fit me, don't you?" he asks, even as he uses his telekinesis to open the drawer and shakily summon the box.</p><p>"I have condoms that fit toys that are as big as you," Quentin says, his voice shaking with arousal as he lowers his other hand and gives Eliot a heated look. "The ones that I pretended were you." His gaze rakes down Eliot's body, and he licks his lips. "I hoped you were... proportional."</p><p>Eliot has to close his eyes for a moment. "Jesus Christ," he says, "okay. All right." He reaches blindly for the vibrator, encourages Quentin's legs to part more for him with a gentle hand on the inside of his thigh. "I'm going to put this in you, and then I'm going to put a condom on you and I'm going to sit on your cock. All right?"</p><p>Quentin nods eagerly. "Yes, yes - more than all right."</p><p>"Do you remember the spell?" Eliot asks, slowly circling the vibrator against Quentin's hole.</p><p>"Yeah," Quentin says, taking a deep breath and bringing his hands up to work meticulously through the tuts, his brow furrowing in concentration. Eliot sighs at the first, gentle tingle - and as he feels the magic enter him, opening him up, he pushes the vibrator into Quentin. Quentin bites back a curse, has to visibly force his fingers to keep working as Eliot slides the toy into him, filling Quentin up in a different way than his fingers had. The toy is ridged, curved so that it slides in <i>just </i>right, pressing up against Quentin's prostate in a way he can't - and doesn't want to - get away from. </p><p>"That's it," Eliot murmurs, "it feels good, doesn't it? You're so good, Q." He presses the toy in further, fucks him with it just a little, until it's settled comfortably enough that he's sure it won't slip free, and then he has to let go. He feels feverish with want, his hands almost shaking as he pulls a condom free of the box and tears open the wrapper. "You want to do this part?"</p><p>"Yeah," Quentin pants, taking the condom from Eliot and sitting up just enough that he can roll it over his cock, the movement quick and practiced. "Will you - " Quentin stops, clears his throat. "Will you kiss me again?"</p><p>Eliot doesn't bother to answer; he just crawls over Quentin's body, slides one hand into his hair, and kisses him, hard. "I told you," he says, between one kiss and the next, "that you can have anything you want."</p><p>"You did," Quentin says, breathless, when they pull apart, "but I don't - don't know if you really meant <i>anything.</i>" One hand is at Eliot's waist, clutching tightly, while the other is curled over Eliot's shoulder, another point of stability as Quentin pulls Eliot in for another kiss. </p><p>Eliot obliges him, and even moans against Quentin's lips when their tongues touch. "Try me," he says. "I meant it. Anything."</p><p>Quentin shudders under Eliot. "Later," he promises, something just a little off in his tone that's lost in the next kiss. "I thought you said you were gonna sit on my cock?"</p><p>Eliot smirks into the next kiss, and then pulls back so that he can move further up Quentin's body, his hands braced against Quentin's shoulders for balance. "Little help?" he asks.</p><p>Quentin nods, runs the hand on Eliot's shoulder down his chest and over his stomach. He makes a brief detour to stroke Eliot's cock, twisting his wrist and sliding his thumb under the head <i>just </i>so on the upstroke, before he reaches for his own, steadying it and swearing quietly as he presses the head to Eliot's hole. "Someday soon I want to get my mouth on you again," Quentin mutters, more to himself than to Eliot. "Gonna spend hours just eating you out."</p><p>"Fucking--" Eliot hisses, his eyes screwed closed. "Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate." He laughs a little with the last word, but it quickly becomes a gasp when he gets the head of Quentin's cock inside of him. His thighs tremble just a little, and he starts to sink down.</p><p>Quentin groans, his forehead dropping to Eliot's shoulder as Eliot shifts in his lap. "Fucking <i>Christ,</i> you feel so good," he murmurs, tilting his head to drag his mouth over Eliot's neck, teeth scraping over the place where Eliot's pulse is pounding just beneath his skin. </p><p>"Uh-huh," Eliot manages, his breathing all gone to shit as he finally settles his hips against Quentin's. "Give me a-- a minute." It's not the biggest cock he's ever taken, but it has been a while and he - he wants to enjoy this. Quentin isn't as long as Eliot, and he's a little thicker, and he feels... "So good, Q, I knew you would."</p><p>Quentin gives Eliot a moment, lets himself worry and suck a mark onto Eliot's neck, down low where it meets his shoulder. After a moment his hands move, curving over Eliot's hips to slide down his ass, one venturing further in until he can trace the pad of one finger over where Eliot's stretched wide around his cock. His other hand goes down further, until he can grip the bottom of Eliot's thigh, feel the trembling tension in the muscle there. "Fuck, El," he sighs, breath hot against Eliot's skin as he squeezes Eliot's leg. "You good?"</p><p>"Yeah," Eliot breathes, and opens his eyes. "Are you?"</p><p>Quentin takes in a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then lets it go, sighs out his answer with it. "Yeah."</p><p>"Good," Eliot says - and starts to ride him.</p><p>Quentin only manages to stay upright for a moment before he gives in, practically falling backward until he's lying prone on the bed, his hands at Eliot's hips. "<i>Fuck,</i>" he moans, heels sliding against the sheets as he tries to find some kind of leverage to brace himself, fuck into Eliot's rhythm, but between the tight-hot-wet feeling of Eliot's hole around his cock and the toy in his ass, rubbing agaisnt his prostate with every move Eliot makes, it's a lost cause. </p><p>"Oh baby," Eliot pants, one hand braced in the middle of Quentin's chest as he rolls his hips. "You think this is good? I'm just getting started."</p><p>Quentin keens, a wordless, desperate noise that he can't help, his grip on Eliot's hips tightening to the point of <i>bruising. </i>"Please," he gasps. "El, <i>please.</i>"</p><p>Eliot moans, the rhythm of his hips faltering only for a second. "It's all right, Q," he manages, tossing his curls out of his eyes so that he can look down at Quentin with a wild smile. "I've got you." And then Eliot is bringing his other hand up, the one that isn't braced on Quentin's chest, and Quentin has just enough time to glimpse the remote tucked into his palm before Eliot clicks it on.</p><p>Quentin <i>shouts,</i> his head thrown back against the pillows without any conscious effort, his back arching as his hips jerk. His shout tapers to a whine, a helpless, overwhelmed noise that comes from high in his throat as his fingers flex against Eliot's hips. Eliot shows him no mercy. He clicks the remote again, upping the vibration intensity twice, and starts fucking himself on Quentin's cock in earnest. Quentin starts swearing, each curse a breathless, chanting thing that sounds like it's punched from him with every move that Eliot makes. Eventually, he manages to form actual words again. "El, El, <i>Eliot,</i> please," he gasps, desperate, hands sliding down Eliot's thighs and back up in quick, desperate strokes. </p><p>"What?" Eliot asks, and he sounds <i>wrecked</i>. "Ask for what you need, sweetheart."</p><p>"I need to make you come," Quentin says, desperate. "Please, let me make you come."</p><p>"<i>Fuck,</i>" Eliot groans, and tosses his head back. "Yeah, Q, touch me."</p><p>With permission granted, Quentin wastes no time in taking Eliot's cock in his hand, stroking in counterpoint to every roll of Eliot's hips. He bites his lip, tries to use the pain to stave off the orgasm that Eliot's movements and the toy inside of him are bringing unbearably close, but it's not working. "I'm close," he gasps, hand working faster over Eliot's cock. "<i>Fuck,</i> El, I'm way too close - "</p><p>"Good," Eliot says wildly, desperately. "Come on, baby, fucking come in me, do it, do it, Q, <i>please--</i>" He clicks the remote again.</p><p>And Quentin <i>screams</i> as he comes, his hips working frantically under Eliot, fucking into him and rocking back against the toy. The hand on Eliot's hip turns painful, Quentin's nails digging into the skin there as his grip around Eliot's cock tightens, his rhythm faltering but speed increasing as he rides out his own orgasm and drives Eliot closer to his. </p><p>Eliot isn't far behind him, and just about has the wherewithal to turn the vibrator off before the remote slips from his grasp and he's coming, spilling hot and wet over Quentin's fist and onto his chest. "Oh, oh," he gasps, his hips still working against Quentin's almost despite himself, even as he bats at Quentin's hand. "Q, Q too much, <i>ah</i>, too much."</p><p>Quentin almost wants to keep going, see how far he can push Eliot - Can he make Eliot come a second time? - but he reluctantly lets Eliot's cock go in favor of lifting his come-covered hand to his mouth. He pauses just long enough to be sure Eliot's watching, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. Eliot shudders above him, cursing, and in turn clenches his body around Quentin's softening cock. Quentin almost bites himself, and yanks his fingers out so he can swear colorfully, his hand landing on Eliot's knee. "<i>Jesus </i>Christ, fuck - Way too sensitive for that, holy shit."</p><p>Eliot smirks, but the breath he lets out is shaky. "Sorry," he says. "Couldn't help it. Hold my hands?" Quentin does, immediately, and gives Eliot a questioning look; Eliot doesn't offer an explanation, just braces himself with Quentin's hands and pushes up. His thighs tremble with the effort as Quentin slips free of him, and he sighs at the loss, but in the next moment he climbs out of Quentin's lap and settles against his side instead.</p><p>Quentin makes a soft noise, a mix between understanding and overwhelmed, and he lets go of Eliot only long enough to slip the condom off of his cock, tying it off and lobbing it somewhere in the vicinity of his trash can, and to ease the toy from himself before he shifts closer to Eliot. </p><p>He wraps his arms around Eliot, the motion careful, tentative, like he's not sure it's really allowed. "So," he says, looking at the ceiling so he doesn’t have to look at Eliot's face just yet, "I think I'm gonna spend the next, I don't know, week, maybe, lying here and trying to recover from that."</p><p>Eliot chuckles, deep and satisfied. "You don't sound mad at that," he says.</p><p>"I am absolutely <i>not </i>mad," Quentin confirms. "I actually don't think I have enough brain cells left to be mad."</p><p>Eliot laughs again and pats weakly at Quentin's arm. "I feel that on a spiritual level."</p><p>Quentin cracks a smile, chuckles quietly, and lets the two of them lapse into an almost-easy silence. It doesn’t last long, however; Quentin can't <i>not </i>ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue. "So. You, um, couldn't get me out of your head for a year?"</p><p>Eliot huffs, shifts against him, but he doesn't shy away from the question. "Pretty much since we met," he admits.</p><p>"And that means... what, exactly?" Quentin asks, tentative. </p><p>Eliot takes a breath. "That I like you," he says quietly. "I really like you. And I hope this isn't a one-time thing."</p><p>"Like friends with benefits?" Quentin asks, and he maybe sounds just a little desperate. "Because, El, I like you, too, but if you just mean you just want sex..."</p><p>"No," Eliot says, perhaps a little too harshly. "<i>Fuck</i> no, Q, that's the last thing I want."</p><p>Quentin's arm tightens around Eliot, and the breath he draws in then is more than a little shaky. "Then what do you want?"</p><p>"I want to be with you," Eliot says. "I'm not-- I don't think I'm going to be very good at it. But I want to try."</p><p>Quentin laughs, but it's not malicious in the least. "And you think I'll be much better? You know how often my brain breaks."</p><p>"Then we can work it out together," Eliot says. "Unless you're not into it."</p><p>"No!" Quentin says hastily. "No, I mean - I am. Into it. You. The whole - you-and-me-together thing. I'm into that."</p><p>Eliot smiles and sits up until he can look at Quentin, touch his face. "Then be with me," he says.</p><p>Quentin searches Eliot's expression for a moment before his own smile grows, matching Eliot's. "Okay," he murmurs. "I think I can do that."</p><p>"Fantastic," Eliot says, and kisses him. "I was really hoping to have another look in that drawer."</p>
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